


Forgetting Frisco

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (sort of), ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Harry, Domination/submission, Edging, Exhibitionism, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Riding, Rimming, Subspace, Top Louis, harry-centric sex, it's everything good in the world and I'm not ashamed, louis makes him keep the top on, oooooh also there's fluffy aftercare, they have sex in front of the mirror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry probably knew when he decided to wear that goddamn sheer shirt onstage in Toronto that it was going to drive Louis absolutely insane with want. He probably <i>didn't</i> know that Louis was going to proceed to fuck him so good he had flashbacks for years to come just like Frisco, but then again, you won't hear him complaining.</p><p>(Basically 6k of Louis worshipping Harry's body and doing it all in front of a mirror so Harry can worship, too.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting Frisco

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not the only one who saw that sheer shirt and said "wow he's going to get fucked good for that one," so here's the scene I'm sure we were all envisioning. You're welcome! ;)

In the dim lighting of the dressing room, Louis never even notices something suspicious going on. They're all throwing things at each other and making a mess and trying to goad their stylists into quitting, as usual, while very slowly doing as they're told and actually getting ready for the concert. Somebody sprays half a can of hairspray on his head, someone else thrusts a pair of shoes into his hand, and once he's appropriately suited up with a mic pack, Louis allows himself to be shepherded to the stage without so much as bothering to check for trouble.

As usual, trouble was Harry Styles.

He notices as soon as they get on stage under the bright lights, of course. He has eyes that are magnetically drawn to Harry, which renders it impossible not to seek him out in every crowd, if only to check and make sure that he’s still there. With all of the flash of the cameras and the glow of the spotlights, he can take in the finer details that shitty fluorescents didn't let him make out. Like the fact that Harry's black button down shirt is bloody sheer.

This youngest lad must be getting either bold or crazy as he ages, because he's never dared to wear anything like this before. An earring, maybe, or a pair of sparkly boots, but to be showing off his torso with such reckless abandon has to be certifiably insane. It makes Louis feel insane, certainly. Insane and awed and, well, horny.

And then there's this newfound flamboyance that Harry is picking up this tour, and a new way of twirling his lanky body around stage with movements that are somehow ungraceful but still beautiful. Now Louis is getting to watch that out of the corner of his eye and be able to peer through the fabric and watch his torso twist and curve and expand and contract in ways that are simply just not fair.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off a bit.

But the worst part by far is that he can see the tattoos. The dumb swallows with the eyebrows that he teases Harry mercilessly about to cover up the fact that it might be the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and the even dumber butterfly that he got right in the middle of his stomach because he'd seen it on the page next to the tattoo that Louis wanted, and dumbest of all, the branch tattoos on his hips that always draw Louis’ eyes inward and downward until he's even more helpless to resist the urge to touch Harry than he already was.

He restrains himself from commenting until about three quarters of the way through the show. By then, though, he can't help himself. He waits until they're all taking a quick break for water between songs and strolles up behind Harry to cup his hand over one ear and whisper what he knows that only Harry will ever hear.

“Baby, the fact that I can see your tattoos through your bloody shirt makes me want to rip your pants open and suck your cock down so hard and so fast that you won’t even have time to warn me before you shoot your load down my throat. That sound good, Hazza?”

There’s more to his commentary, about how he would very much like to swallow every drop Harry can give him and then lick the salty, sweet sort of taste off of his lips like a delicacy and then go back to performing in front of an arena full of fans. He doesn’t get the opportunity to finish saying all of that though, because Harry just up and walks away from him with a mildly alarmed expression. Louis roars with laughter, because Harry doesn’t have to use words to tell Louis what he thinks about that. _I’ve never heard anything half as hot,_ the wideness of his eyes says. _I’m already getting hard,_ adds the even more prominent clumsiness in his walk. _And you are not fucking helping,_ finishes the flush creeping up his neck.

It doesn’t really bother Louis all that much. The concert will be over soon, and if there’s one thing he knows, it’s Harry.

He knows Harry so well that he isn’t even surprised, not really, when there’s a big, soft hand wrapping around his forearm and squeezing tight the second they’re offstage. He’s prepared to be dragged off towards the bathroom, wordlessly, and to hear the click of the lock falling into place as Harry shuts the door behind them. And it only catches him a little off guard when Harry takes him by the shoulders and pushes down until Louis’ knees fold and hit the tile with a jolt as he’s kneeling before a man too frazzled to even properly unfasten his belt. “Please tell me you weren’t just joking, back there,” Harry whimpers.

“I’d never joke about something like that,” Louis grins as he pushes Harry’s hands aside and does it himself. He’s undressed Harry so many times it’s muscle memory by now, and with the poor boy trembling like this it’ll take ages if he tries to do it himself. He gets the stupidly tight jeans unfastened and grabs pants and boxers by each hip to tug them down until they’re around his thighs and Harry’s cock is free at last.

And Louis was _not_ joking, because he’s giving it absolutely everything he’s got as he starts to blow Harry hard and fast. He’s got one hand wrapped around the base and his thumb rubs firmly across the sensitive underside, while the fingers of his other hand press hard into the flesh of Harry’s bum, pulling him closer and closer so that Louis can hardly breathe in the tiny space between them.

Harry’s thighs start to tremble and Louis moves both of his hands to steady those hips, clearing his mind and focusing only on taking Harry’s cock deeper and deeper into his throat. The muscles in his throat flutter in protest, not sure whether to gag or not, but he keeps bobbing a little deeper each time with a silent mantra of _make my baby feel good, make him come undone._ Finally Louis’ nose is buried against Harry’s skin and he moans in victory and flicks his tongue on the underside of Harry’s cock.

There’s a strangled, high-pitched sort of grunt from Harry and his hands to to the back of Louis’ head to press him closer, and then with a jerk of his hips Harry’s coming right down the back of Louis’ throat. No warning, just like was promised. Louis gags but doesn’t pull back, swallows on reflex and keeps swallowing as Harry’s heavy breathing gets ever more pronounced in the rush of adrenaline and oxytocin flooding through him now. He’s looking down at Louis, still flushed and breathless from the stage but on his knees happily sucking Harry’s cock with his cheeks hollowed out and eyelashes fluttering contentedly, and the aftershocks are almost as intense as the orgasm itself.

Finally Harry has to push Louis’ head back a bit because Louis is making no effort to do so himself and he’s going to suffocate if he doesn’t get some air soon that isn’t restricted by the press of skin and the presence of a cock in his mouth. Louis pulls off him slowly, panting, and swipes one hand under his mouth to clean up the spit and remnants of cum dribbled there. “Told you so, didn’t I?” he says with a smirk. “Told you that you’d come too quick to warn me first.”

“Didn’t mean to, shit, come so fast,” Harry mumbles, eyes glazed and body swaying  as he runs his hands through his hair. “Couldn’t help it, though.”

“To be fair, you _were_ hard for the last quarter of the concert,” Louis allows graciously. “And it _was_ my specific goal to make you come quickly.”

“Couldn’t help it,” repeats Harry dazedly. He tries to take a step back but his knees start to buckle and Louis has to wrap his arms around Harry’s legs from his place on the floor just to keep him upright. He rests his head against Harry’s hip and looks up at the boy, watching him try to blink the orgasm away. “Thank you. Jesus. Thank you so much. Give me a second and I’ll do you, I promise-”

“Harry, baby, you can’t even stand up or close your mouth, how are you going to reciprocate in a state like this?” Louis snorts. “Don’t worry about it. That was your reward for that stupid goddamn shirt.”

Harry protests a little, insisting that he repay the favor because it’s only polite and Louis always treats him so well, but Louis insists harder. He’ll get his kicks later, he knows, when they’re back at the hotel and Harry has his wits about him. For now he’s just satisfied with how many long minutes it takes for Harry to be able to stand on his own, and how dazed he still looks when he stumbles from the bathroom as Louis follows with a smirk.

Let everyone see them emerge from the bathroom all fucked out and smug. Louis’ done good work here, and good work ought to be acknowledged.

…………………

Once Harry returns to reality he’s the most cheerful Louis’ seen him in ages. He’s practically prancing as he moves around the changing room collecting his things, and there’s more than one occasion when he’s caught smirking at his shirt in the mirrors. Louis rolls his eyes as he watches because honestly, it’s a miracle they haven’t been officially outed by now. Harry can’t hide his feelings worth shit. It’s one of the things Louis loves most about him.

It takes ages for them to wrap up here and sneak out of the arena. The whole general area is swarming with fans, barely held at bay by the combined security forces of their team and that of the venue. It’s very late by the time they’re shuffled into the hotel and distributed in their rooms, and Louis shuts the door behind him and Harry with a relieved sigh.

“Who knew Toronto would be so intense?” Harry muses as he kicks off his boots and crawls onto the bed. “Canadian fans. Polite, but very intense.”

“Yes, well, we do tend to evoke strong reactions in people,” answers Louis with a smirk. He’s already down to his boxers, glad to be rid of the sweaty cling of concert clothes.

“Do you want to shower first, and I’ll order room service?” Harry is already absentmindedly flicking through channels on the telly. “Pizza sounds really good for some reason. I’m starving.”

Louis makes his way over to the bed and plucks the remote from Harry’s hand, placing it on the table beside them. He plants his knees on either side of Harry’s legs and leans over him with a mischievous smile. “Shower? Are you trying to say I smell, Hazza?”

“No worse than usual,” Harry teases back. “But I just thought you might like to get clean before you ate.”

His answer is kisses, slow ones, intimate ones, and the teasing banter drains away in the next few minutes as Harry forgets what they were talking about a little more with each brush of Louis’ tongue. After a bit Louis pulls back and ignores the way Harry’s mouth chases after his. “I’m not going to get in the shower, and you’re not going to order room service. Do you remember Frisco?”

Harry grins slyly because of _course_ he remembers Frisco. He remembers every second of Louis fucking him into oblivion and then sending him out into the world when he was absolutely still not present. He could never forget Frisco. “I still have flashbacks sometimes,” he says by way of confirmation.

“Frisco was good and all,” murmurs Louis, “but I’m going to make you feel so good that when you flash back, all you’ll be able to think about is Toronto. Got it?”

Their kisses get interrupted as Harry nods vigorously. "That's perfectly fine with me."

Louis sits back and lets his weight rest on Harry's thighs as his hands start working at the top of Harry's jeans. Harry doesn't even bother trying to search for friction; he knows that if Louis wants him to have it, he'll give it to him. Instead he just crosses his arms behind his head, opening up his whole body for Louis to do whatever he wants with.

"You're just greedy for it, aren't you?" Louis asks with a laugh, even as he climbs off the bed so he could slide the jeans down Harry's legs a little easier. "I've already made you come once today -quite unselfishly, might I add- and yet here you are spread out like a little vixen."

Harry doesn't appear to be too bothered by the teasing. "I can't help it if I know a good thing when I see it," he smoothly remarks.

"Yes, well, I can't exactly fault you for wanting to look at beautiful things." The words are punctuated by the way that Louis' eyes are making trips up and down Harry's lengthy body. He looks good from head to toe, always has, and Harry knows exactly how much it drives Louis insane.

"Are you trying to tell me that you want me to take my clothes off?" Harry flirts. He doesn't wait for an answer. His hands are already at the buttons of his shirt, aiming to help hurry the process along.

Louis stops him at once. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" he asks brightly. "I didn't tell you to take your shirt off."

"Well you don't usually complain about me undressing, so I just assumed-"

"Well you're operating under the assumption that I want you to take your shirt off," retorts Louis. "That's the whole reason why we're here in the first place, is that bloody shirt. No, that's staying on."

Harry looks half nervous and half excited at the intensity in Louis' voice. He doesn't make another move to unfasten his shirt, just lays in wait for further instructions. Louis doesn't make him wait long. "Stand up, then," he says calmly. A quick survey of the room and suddenly he has all kinds of ideas. There's a full length mirror on the wall next to the TV. "Go stand in front of that mirror," he instructs Harry calmly.

Harry does just as he's told. He moves to stand facing the mirror, arms by his sides, looking at Louis over his shoulder in the reflective surface. The older man comes up to stand behind him, hands on his hips and playing with the waistband of Harry's boxers. Harry doesn't know what to look at, the fingers teasing his skin or the way Louis' eyes drift closed when he starts to kiss Harry's neck.

"Do you have any idea how good you look?" Louis murmurs into Harry's skin. "Look at yourself in this mirror. Look how pretty your body is."

It's difficult for Harry to take in his whole body when he wants so badly to be looking at Louis, but he tries. He sees the flushed color of his neck, the widening of his pupils, the excited twitch of his hands as Louis starts stroking his sides from waist to thighs. Louis’ hands are gentle and slow, and Harry watches in the mirror as his boxers start to tent. Like he needed a visual to make him even _more_ aware of the uncomfortable sensation between his legs.

Louis sees it too, even though he knows Harry well enough at this point that he doesn’t need to check to make sure. It matches the tightness in his own boxers, which he presses helpfully against the swell of Harry’s bum so that he’ll be aware, too. In the mirror he can see Harry start biting his lip at once, eyes glued to Louis’ hands on his own hips. “You want me to touch you, don’t you?” he asks quietly as he starts moving his hips, grinding against Harry.

“Yes,” Harry whispers, voice rough. “I want you to touch me, Lou.”

He watches with anticipation as Louis starts to pull his boxers down and lets them drop to the floor, until both of them are looking at Harry’s cock in the mirror. It’s all the way hard now, swollen and pretty enough that Louis just wants to reach around Harry and run his fingertips down the whole length of it and watch it twitch in response. “You’ve got such a fantastic cock, Harry,” he sighs. “Makes my mouth water. Choking on it in the bathroom like that was a treat for me, too, you know.” He’s grinding against Harry in earnest now, the fabric of his boxers rough against his cock but the friction making his stomach flutter.

The smile Harry flashes him in the mirror is slightly cheeky but mostly tremulous. “Anytime.”

“Well not tonight again, that’s for sure,” Louis replies with a smirk. “I’m not going to touch your cock, and I’m _certainly_ not going to blow you. You’ve already had your fun tonight. It’s my turn.”

Somehow Harry doesn’t look upset as he leans back into Louis and arches his back into the sensation of a hard cock pushing against his flesh. “Whatever you want,” he whispers readily.

Louis doesn’t answer out loud, just moves one hand up to Harry’s shoulder and pushes so that Harry has to catch himself on the mirror and finds himself bent at a 45-degree angle with Louis still standing smugly behind him. Louis runs a hand down Harry’s spine through the thin material of his shirt. “Anything I want?” he asks cheerily. “So I could take you right now, just like this, and that would be alright with you?”

There’s been no prep and no lube to speak of. Harry’s cock still twitches. “Anything you want,” he confirms.

“Well, the world’s my oyster, now, innit?” Louis pretends to stop and consider, his fingertips still stroking Harry’s spine. He reaches down with his other hand and taps at the inside of Harry’s thighs until he catches on and spreads his legs. One hand traces ever so lightly over Harry’s hole, which flutters lightly in response, and Louis presses his fingertip to the entrance like he might just push it in- “Lucky for you, I’m horny, not cruel.”

He drops to his knees and places one hand on each of Harry’s cheeks so he can spread them and place a gentle little kiss to his hole. “I want you to watch yourself in that mirror, Harry,” he orders lightly. “You really are a sight to see.”

The next thing Harry knows there’s a hot mouth on his body, slick tongue licking stripes across his entrance with tantalizing pressure, and he can’t hold back his tiny moan. His eyes flutter shut just on instinct, but he’s obedient enough that he uses all of his willpower and forces his eyes open once more.

He can’t see much of Louis, much to his disappointment, but he can watch the changes coming over his face as Louis stars pushing his tongue past the tight ring of muscles and into Harry. His chest is flushing, his pupils wide and starting to get glassy. His lips are pink from all of the biting.

Louis pulls his mouth back and starts working one finger into Harry, which makes the boy’s back arch just the tiniest bit as he inhales sharply. “Are you watching yourself getting rimmed?” he asks Harry.

“Y-yes. Yes.”

“Do you see how pretty you look?”

Harry doesn’t quite know how to answer. The part of the mirror in front of his face is starting to get foggy from the force of his heated pants. He can still see even through his shirt the strain of his muscles holding his weight off the mirror, and the tension in his thighs as they twitch with each pump of Louis’ wrist. He can see how his cock bobs enthusiastically as his hips jerk in reaction to the second finger. He can even see, through the frame of his own thighs, the smooth movements of Louis’ jaw as he does little kitten licks to the skin where his fingers disappear into Harry, like that isn’t going to make Harry insane.

His prostate isn’t even getting direct stimulation, but Harry’s got a little bead of precome on the head of his cock anyway. There’s a tongue being worked in next to the two fingers now, and he pushes back just the tiniest bit, chasing sensation. As the press of flesh on Louis’ face gets steadily harder, he smacks lightly on the pale skin of Harry’s bum and pulls his mouth away, just steadily scissoring Harry open with his fingers. “You’re so easy sometimes,” he says with a laugh. “You could probably come just from that, couldn’t you?”

“Have before,” Harry pants honestly. “Might again.”

He regrets his honesty almost at once because Louis removes his fingers and stands, but before he can even protest Harry sees that he’s merely heading over to the suitcase and digging around for something. _Lube,_ he sees excitedly as Louis returns.

Louis comes to stand behind him once again, squeezing some of the tube out into his hand as he walks and tossing it on the desk. He slips his boxers off with the clean hand and holds them there. “Now you see why I can’t hardly resist you,” he tells Harry with a grin, working the lube onto his cock. “You literally look that goddamn good all the time.”

“I don’t have it any easier,” Harry mumbles, because Louis’ hair is falling into his eyes a bit and he looks as gorgeous as he always does and then some.

“Yeah, well. Luckily we don’t have to actually resist each other,” Louis replies as he lines up his cock and pushes slowly inside.

Harry forgets to keep his eyes open and watch, but Louis doesn’t. It’s almost as good as the sensation of Harry’s hot, tight body around his cock, the sight of Harry’s mouth falling open and his eyes jamming shut in pleasure and discomfort. After a few seconds he remembers to breathe again, and his chest starts heaving under his shirt. “You can go,” he says, a little strangled, reopening his eyes. “If you want.”

Louis uses the boxers he still holds to wipe the mess of lube off his hand and tosses them aside, holding onto Harry’s hips instead. He starts off slowly, teasing himself with the slow drag of pressure against his cock, then speeds up a little until Harry starts to make little pleased noises. Soon the younger boy is pushing off the mirror and leaning back so that they’re both standing. Harry’s back is arched, his shoulders leaning back against Louis’ chest and his hands covering Louis’ where they rest on his skin.

The height difference and the curve of Harry’s torso makes it easy for Louis to fuck up into him, which he does, earnestly. Harry’s head lolls back and he’s moaning more now, maybe louder than he should in a hotel room with neighbors on every side, but Louis doesn’t mind. His only correction is to shrug his shoulder so that Harry is forced to pick his head up once more. “Keep looking, baby. Keep seeing how pretty you are.”

Louis slips his hands out from underneath Harry’s so he can place them on top instead, leaving Harry’s palms to rest on his own skin. “Do you feel how nice your skin is?” he murmurs, moving their hands so that Harry’s fingers trace down to his thighs, then back up across his hipbones. “Do you feel all your pretty curves?” They trace over ferns and push Harry’s shirt up to dance across a butterfly. Louis keeps pushing until they’re caressing swallows, too.

Harry’s palms brush over his nipples and he wriggles a little, grinding down onto Louis’ cock. “Can you-” he starts to ask.

“I won’t, but you can,” Louis answers, planting a kiss on Harry’s shoulder. Harry moves his hands on his own now, fingers rolling his nipples and twisting playfully until they’re swollen and he’s leaking precome again. Louis can’t decide what to watch in the mirror, but it’s getting more and more difficult not to just reach around and grab Harry’s cock and pull him off right now-

Louis has to pull out then, before he winds up touching Harry and ruining his whole plan. “You look so good, taking care of yourself like that,” he said, giving Harry’s bum a playful squeeze. “Wanna ride me? Want to fuck your beautiful body down on my cock?”

“Yes, please,” Harry instantly begs, just as Louis knew he would. He could try every position in the book and there would never be anything Harry liked as much as riding him. He loves getting to control the angle, using Louis’ body to get off so shamelessly, and of course it isn’t bad for Louis either. He gets to lie back and have his cock worshipped and just watch Harry making himself feel good.

He won’t be the only one watching this time, though. Louis lays down on the floor with his head towards the mirror so that Harry can see himself in the reflection as he sinks down on Louis’ cock. “Eyes open,” he insists as Harry’s flutter shut. “You can touch yourself if you want, but you have to keep your eyes open. And absolutely do not come.”

It’s too tempting of an offer for Harry to refuse. He pries his eyes open and watches in the mirror as he lifts his hand and finally gets to give himself some attention. He has to use one hand to lift his shirt out of the way so that he can train his eyes on where he’s dropping his hips and Louis is disappearing inside of him, cock hard and wet and hitting Harry just right every time.

The sight of it just makes Harry stroke his cock harder. Push down, watch the slide, feel the friction on his spot, push up, watch the slide, feel the friction on his spot, over and over while his hand works the length of his neglected cock. Every so often his eyes will stray from the mirror down to Louis’ face, which is flushed as Louis wriggles and moans a little beneath him. “The mirror, Harry,” he insists every time he catches Harry looking away from his own reflection. “Look at your gorgeous cock.”

Harry’s looking, and he’s starting to feel tension building in his gut. There’s the feel of Louis buried deep inside him, and the thrusts on his prostate, and the slide of his own hand at the base of his cock… “Louis, I’m going to come,” he announces firmly. “Soon. I can feel it, please? I’m seriously going to come.”

“No, you’re not,” Louis says with no less sureness. “You’re going to hold on a little longer, okay baby?”

“Ugnh- yes. Okay.”

“That’s a good boy.” Because Louis is getting close and he’s starting to chase his own orgasm, bringing his hips up to meet Harry halfway. The sight of this beautiful boy bouncing on his cock, working his own as he watches himself in the mirror with glazed eyes and a well-fucked expression is almost too much for Louis to handle. Combine that with the feel of Harry’s tight body and the flutter of his muscles around Louis’ cock every time the angle is right, and he's almost toast. Add to that the sight of Harry’s curves and tattoos shimmering through the sheer fabric of that _goddamn shirt,_ and he's absolutely done for.

“Coming,” he grunts as warning, right before he does, fucking up into Harry and feeling his back arch up off the floor a little. Harry whimpers, and when Louis opens his eyes he sees the boy keeping a very tight grip on the base of his cock and taking deep breaths that don’t seem to help. “Y’alright, Hazza?” he asks breathlessly, still grinding his way through aftershocks.

Harry nods silently. “I’m really, really close. You feel so good when you come,” he manages to reply.

As soon as he’s finished, Louis taps Harry’s hip. “Off.” Harry climbs off of Louis’ softening cock and lets Louis scramble ungracefully to his knees. He crawls over to the edge of the bed and sits on his ankles with his back leaning against it, still in view of the mirror. “Come sit with me, back to front,” he says, gesturing Harry over. He spreads his legs wide so that Harry can slot himself between them like a little spoon.

“Do I get to come soon?” Harry asks hopefully, looking at Louis in the mirror through eyes that are more pupil than anything else. He still has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock in an attempt to stay in control of himself.

“Close,” answers Louis. “You get to come close.”

“Wh-what?”

“I want you to take your cock, and I want you to bring yourself right to the edge and then stop. You understand?” Louis smiles at the distraught expression on Harry’s face. “I know. But I want you to see how good you look when you get all desperate.”

“I am desperate!”

Louis indulgently pinches his thigh. “Don’t whine. I want you to edge yourself. And don’t cheat and make yourself come because I’ll pull your hand away and make you have a ruined one, yeah?”

Harry spends a long moment looking at Louis behind him in the mirror like he’s going to protest or beg or do anything but comply with such a cruel demand, but instead he just gives a fucked-out half smile and starts stroking his cock once again.

It makes Louis’ body think about getting hard again, just watching Harry all drowsy and drunk on need, pulling himself off with one hand and gripping Louis’ thigh with the other. His head is lolled back against Louis’ chest but he keeps his eyes opened and trained on his body just like Louis’ are. It remains tantalizing, the way that his curves and every line of his tattoos are visible through that shirt.

After a minute Harry’s back starts to arch as his strokes get faster. Louis buries his hand in Harry’s curls, the other hand resting on Harry’s hip in case he needs to jump in. “There you go, baby,” he whispers filthily. “Work your cock. Make yourself feel good, just don’t come. Right to the edge, but don’t come.”

They’re both watching in the mirror as Harry’s back arches a little more into his hand and he bucks up ever so slightly before moving to grip the base tightly with a miserable expression. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving, and Louis kisses his neck for the herculean effort. “Good boy. So good. You did just like I asked. Did you see how pretty you looked, when you got that close?”

“Yes,” Harry said with great difficulty, words slurring a little with that dreamy, submissive need Louis always manages to instill in him after so much teasing. He's halfway to subspace, and Louis is barely even trying. “Can I come now? Please?”

“Not quite yet. But you can come close again.”

And so it went, over and over again as Louis and Harry both watch Harry edge himself five, six, seven times. His back doesn’t arch anymore, like he doesn’t have the energy to, a steady ooze of precum dripping from his cock. Every time Louis commands him to go back to the edge it takes less and less time, and in the mirror Louis can see that Harry’s eyes are so glazed that he's surely barely here. He's gorgeous, all flushed skin and weeping cock and absolute, shameless submission.

“C’mere, kiss me,” Louis says at last, and when Harry turns his head to let their lips meet the slack mouth beneath Louis’ confirms it. Harry’s gone, fucked out before he’s even come. It’s what Louis’ been waiting for, and he smiles into the kiss and uses one hand to gently nudge Harry’s head so he’s facing the mirror once more.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” he murmurs quietly. “You’ve been watching yourself all night, seeing how pretty you are. Are you ready to come now? Want to see how gorgeous you are when you come for me?”

“Please, yes, I’m ready,” Harry mumbles dazedly. “Please, Lou.”

“Yes, baby, I’m gonna take care of you,” Louis shushes. “Just promise me you won’t close your eyes.”

And Harry doesn’t, he keeps his eyes open and trained on the mirror as Louis takes his cock and starts giving him firm strokes, hands resting on Louis’ knees. The hand of Louis’ not wrapped around Harry’s cock strokes his hair gently, carding through curls as he whispers sweet words in Harry’s ear and gets him closer and closer until finally he comes with a desperate croak, spilling all over Louis’ hand and making an absolute mess of his shirt as he stares straight ahead into his own eyes.

“Thank you, baby, I’m so proud of you,” Louis murmurs, working his fist over Harry until the shudders stop. “That was so good. You did such a good job. You feeling good?”

Harry’s definitely slipped a little under. He’s quiet, but he nods. “Yes. I did everything you said and you made me feel really- really good. I did good for you, right?”

“Yes you did, baby. Had to show you how pretty you are. Now you see why it drove me so crazy, seeing you in this shirt.” Louis smiles and moves to unbutton Harry’s shirt for him. It’s difficult to slide it off, what with how Harry’s slumped back against him like dead weight. “Can you sit up for me? There’s a good lad,” he mutters, getting the messy clothing off of the boy at last.

Harry’s still blinking distantly at the mirror, but he does at least look up when Louis taps his cheek to get him to turn his head. “Can you get up to lie on the bed, love, or do you need another minute?”

“I can- I can get up,” Harry says after a second, and Louis stands first to help him to his feet and gingerly over to the bed. He pulls back the sheets and settles Harry on his back there, not pulling the covers over him just yet.

“I’m gonna clean you up, I’ll be gone for just a second, okay? I love you.” Harry’s eyes tighten a little in anxiety at the word 'gone,' but the soft kiss Louis gives him helps relax him back into his dreamy state. He's still lying pliant on the bed when Louis returns from the bathroom with a warm washcloth, wiping himself off as he walks and then gingerly cleaning Harry’s skin. When he’s finished, he pulls the covers up to Harry’s chin and tucks him in tightly. “You good, baby boy?”

“Are you going to come to bed?” Harry frets quietly, eyes as earnest as they can be while still not quite there.

“Of course,” replies Louis. He flicks off the light and climbs in his side of the bed and gets in under the covers, scooting in close until he’s got his head on Harry’s chest and his arm and leg slung over him, just like Harry likes. Covered in Louis. Surrounded in Louis.

Louis keeps murmuring praise and affection long past the point where his eyes refuse to stay open any longer, and he’s most of the way asleep before Harry comes back. He reaches up to pat Louis’ head gently. “Hey Lou,” he whispers.

“Hey Harry,” smiles Lou, dragging his sleepy eyes open because if Harry could do all that for him, then he could do this for Harry. “How do you feel?”

Harry smiles softly back. “Really good. Thank you.”

Louis cuddles a little closer and presses a kiss to Harry’s chest, simply because it’s the closest and every part of him is equally kissable anyways. “Anything for you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because lbr, Harry's body deserves to be worshipped by _everybody,_ including himself. I don't know what came over me when writing this cause it's not what I intended but all's well that's ends well and I count three happy endings so there you have it
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


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